Star Trek: Pioneer: 1: On a Knife Edge
by Dave Philpot
Summary: In the year 2598, a new species threatens the Federation and attacks one of its key worlds as a prelude to invasion.
1. Chapter 1

"_A wise man has great power,_

_and a man of knowledge_

_increases strength;_

_for waging war you need guidance,_

_and for victory many advisers._"

Proverbs 24: 5, 6 (_NIV Bible_)

"_When we know our own strength, we shall the better know what to undertake with hopes of success._"

John Locke, _An Essay Concerning Human Understanding  
_

**part one  
**

**prologue  
**

**15 June 2598**

**Ssaur system, Gorn space**

There was something about this part of space that always made him shudder with anxiety. Beyond the single planet and sun of the lonely Ssaur system was simply lifeless space - no movement, no sound. But this vacuum of space had claimed so many victims in its past, from cargo convoys to entire squadrons, and he feared that he and his ship would be next. Still, running freight was a hazardous job in any region of space, but amongst the recognisable stars of this sector he felt at home, secure in the knowledge that there were patrol ships close-by, watching his every move, and making sure he didn't deviate from his course.

It was just another typical day on the job, and Captain Kkossa knew it. It had been that way for 23 long years, 23 years of reminding himself why exactly he had regretfully declined a position commanding a battlecruiser in the Gorn Defence Fleet, 23 years of never forgiving himself for deserting from his own family like the coward he was. He sighed, letting the thoughts subside, and returned to his console, focussing on the work at hand. Not that there was much to do, he mused, watching as a junior lieutenant entered the room and went about his work with a quick glance at his captain. His thoughts drifted back to his family. What would they think of him if they were to meet him now? Would they forgive him for leaving? Could he return to his old life as if nothing ever happened?

A beeping coming from a nearby console interrupted his brief contemplation. The junior lieutenant, a young ssui named Skkan, moved to the lower part of the deck to determine the cause of the beeping. I wonder why Skkan chose to work on this bucket of bolts, Kkossa asked himself for what seemed like the millionth time. He had taught the inexperienced officer from the age of 13, when he was eligible to enter whatever profession he so desired. Apparently the decision hadn't gone down so well in his family either, so at least they shared something in common. Skkan often recounted stories of his brother, who had joined the Defence Force, and therefore wasn't likely to see Skkan for quite some time. Kkossa knew what that felt like. After joining the Defence Force at age 15, he didn't see his family for nine years. There had been constant skirmishes with Tholians, and he didn't have time to contact his own family. Well, there isn't much I can do about that now, he thought.

Skkan turned to face him, bemused. What could it be?

"There's an unidentified vessel approaching from aft," he said, the hissing reflecting off the wall.

"Are you sure it's unidentifiable? Have you checked the database?"

"Yes. There's no record of it."

"Open communication with them."

The lieutenant activated the comm, moving his large rranl across his computer station with practised ease. "They're not responding," he answered. "I've tried all the frequencies."

"Open a channel." Skkan worked the console, and the short monotone beep that sounded next confirmed to Kkossa that the channel was open.

"You have entered restricted space. Identify yourselves by order of the Gorn Hegemony."

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a sharp crackle of static, followed by a very tinny, robotic sounding voice, which said simply:

"Request denied."

Kkossa was taken aback for a second. Nobody had ever refused an instruction in such a way before. He looked over at Skkan, who himself was gazing at the main viewer, a look of puzzlement and shock crossing his face. Then Kkossa realised what it was all about. Glancing at the main viewer himself, he watched as the unidentified vessel began to glow a light shade of blue that increased steadily in brightness.

The first shot caught him off-guard. As he had stood in the middle of the deck, there was nothing to use for support. He was immediately knocked off his feet as the enemy ship's weapon catapulted into his ship, sending sparks flying and leaving many of his crewmen on their backs, having been in the same predicament as him.

"Raise shields! Get our weapons online!" he shouted amongst the commotion that had stricken his crew. As various officers rushed about their duties, Kkossa saw one of them still on the ground, motionless, and with light yellow blood oozing from his head.

It was Skkan. He had obviously been jolted extremely hard into a support, killing him instantly. Kkossa couldn't believe that he had been so foolish not to raise the shields any earlier.

"Shields aren't responding!" hissed another lieutenant, causing Kkossa to realise how much danger his crew were in now.

He didn't have time to complete his thought when another shot struck the disabled vessel, sending Kkossa crashing once again to the ground. As his consciousness faded in and out of life, he realised that the very region of space he had feared for so long was about to claim its latest victim.

Him.


	2. Chapter 2

**one**

**19 June 2598**

**Temporary Office of the President, Jurana City, Lakendi II**

Lorel stood with his hands clenched behind him, watching out over the buzzing metropolis of the city he had come to admire. As the sun set over the horizon, he couldn't help but think of Mount Seleya's sunsets, and the calm they seemed to bring him whilst he meditated. He knew he would be away from Vulcan for a long time unless his duties permitted his being there.

But he was far from home. It didn't feel that way. There go those human emotions of mine again, he mused. Being half-human and half-Vulcan, he had decided to choose logic as his guide, but there were still times when he had "gut feelings" and the like. It took a lot to control, that was certain. But many of his ancestors had been the same. His great-grandfather included. Sometimes he thought that he had inherited his great-grandfather's aptitude for diplomacy as well as some of his humanness.

He had never seen his great-grandfather alive. Only the holodeck afforded him the comfort of seeing him at all – he would sit and talk all day with him, taking in advice and listening to stories of how stubborn his grandson – Lorel's father – was. Even though he didn't seem like family there was a feeling in Lorel that he had been a strong part of it, even though his work had afforded him so little time to see his relatives. Lorel had come not only to admire him as a great-grandfather but also as the great man everyone else saw in him, even though he himself would probably have denied it.

Lorel sighed, his mind returning to the work he had to do. Having been recently elected as impromptu president of the Federation had taken him very much by surprise; but considering the events of the last two weeks, it was easy to understand why everything had happened so quickly.

Lorel looked at the first PADD that lay on his desk, and saw the large bold letters emblazoned on top of it. "RELOCATION – necessary protocols to be undertaken." Lorel scrolled down to see who had compiled the report. "Ambassador Grolek Tepp" was the name that appeared moments later. Lorel knew the ambassador – but had only met him twice. The Xindi-Arboreal had been instrumental in helping his newly formed government proceed in diplomatic talks with the Federation, creating a liaison that had started just 10 years previously. The ambassador had already become one of the most notable in Xindi history. Lorel was grateful for his support, especially in the election.

His deliberations were brought to a sudden halt by a knock on the door. Of course, remembered the president, this is a simple place. No sliding doors, no huge pieces of technology either. Apart from the PADDs that were spread out across his desk, and an emergency communications panel hidden in a place only a few people knew about, there was a shield around the building for protection.

"Come in," Lorel said.

The handle turned, and Lorel found himself staring at someone he had not expected to see.

"Mr President." The man stepped into the light of the continuing sunset.

"Fleet Admiral... Turnbull, is it?" The two shook hands.

"That's right, sir. We met, albeit briefly, during a conference on interstellar politics a few years ago. Now look where we are..." The admiral allowed himself a chuckle and continued. "You get to be president and I get to cart around about a thousand officers all looking for jobs now that they're seemingly 'unemployed'."

"Yes, that was the conference on Galorndon Core, wasn't it? How times change. I remember that planetoid used to be a 'barren rock'." Lorel paused briefly, allowing himself to think of an adequate response to the admiral's second statement. "That would be 'luck of the draw', would it not? After all, no-one knew what was going to happen. And the timescale it happened in was alarming."

He paused again, allowing himself the time to forget about the recent terrible events, before turning back the admiral.

"I regret to inform you that I have a lot of work to do. Is there something you require?"

Lorel noticed his calm, Vulcan self returning to the forefront.

"Well, to be honest, sir... I need orders."

Lorel was temporarily taken aback by this statement, and a look of confusion crept over his face.

"I am not sure I understand what you mean."

"Let me put it this way. As Fleet Admiral, I have general control over the movements and actions of the fleet. To be frank, no-one has had anything to do but sit tight since the attack. No-one has been recalled, or sent to search for the people who attacked us or – "

"Admiral, I am well aware of this. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. We do not have enough ships to patrol every sector, to go on the lookout for our attackers. Keeping them in their current position may keep the enemy out for a while, but moving them all around will all but eliminate our hold on several key systems."

"I see, Mr President, but keeping ships by themselves will only give the enemy an advantage. If they come back with more of their ships – and I'm sure they have plenty more – we could have an invasion on our hands."

Lorel saw his point. Before he could counter, however, Turnbull spoke again.

"We could ask the Romulans to help."

"They will only help if there is a threat which actually presents itself. They will not help us on the premise that there could be an attack."

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course."

"The Romulans have been our allies for 200 years now. We've helped them an awful lot. Rebuilding their government after the Reman Shinzon's defeat by the USS Enterprise-E, assisting them in gaining more trade allies, and not to mention stopping a war that nearly sprung up between them and the Xindi just 23 years ago. To be honest, sir, I just think it's time they returned the favour."

Lorel let the words sink in, trying to think of the cons, but not quickly enough. It did seem like a good idea.

"I'll have to meet with the other members of the Diplomatic Corps, I'm due to see them at 0900 tomorrow morning. I'll discuss it, but I doubt any decision will be made in such a short space of time."

"With all due respect, Mr President, we may not have much time. The Romulans have more ships than they have had in a decade, and with no star systems to annex like they did in the old days they are also doing what our ships are: nothing."

"Are you still speaking freely, Admiral?"

"My apologies, Mr President. I am trying to act in the best interests of the Federation."

"As are we all. However, you referenced earlier that it was in fact I whom had become president?"

Turnbull strode from in front of Lorel's desk and towards the tinted windows that were now the only protection between him and the sunset's fiery finale.

"Well, I don't really envy you. There was a lot of competition for the presidency under the circumstances. Having a logical mind certainly helped..."

Turnbull let his words drift in the air for a moment, then changed the topic as he realised he was shifting uneasily.

"Are there any orders, Mr President?"

Lorel approached the human's right-hand side, watching as ships of all size and description turned on their exterior lighting to combat the dark in which they were flying. Waiting for only a moment, he summoned up a few pieces of information that he needed.

"What's the status of the Pioneer? The last thing I was told was that it had a few problems with its warp drive, and it was undergoing maintenance at the Archer IV shipyards."

"I think they've nearly sorted it. They had an experimental compound running their engines as opposed to the normal matter/antimatter reaction. Apparently it was quite promising but it only lasts for four days maximum. They were ferrying survivors from the recent attack when they stopped dead in space and had to be towed back to Archer IV."

"And now?"

"They have a limited crew but their chief engineer is by far the best in the fleet."

"I suppose you are only saying that as he was chief engineer on the various ships you commanded. My grandfather often tells me about his father's crewmates on one of the first Enterprise's. One of them, the chief engineer, was often referred to as a "miracle worker", for being given little time to complete assignments and finishing them even earlier."

"It seems a pity that he's not here now, we could use him."

"How much time will it be until the Pioneer is operational again?"

"Captain Mantree told me this morning that it would be by the end of day tomorrow. But they are waiting for crew replacements, some of which will arrive by the end of the week."

"Unfortunately that is too much time. I require the Pioneer's service on active duty as soon as their repairs are complete, but I must speak to Captain Mantree before his ship departs, as I have a mission for him."

"As Fleet Admiral, am I privy to knowing what this mission is?"

"For the moment it is unnecessary. All I can tell you is that completing this mission could help to save the Federation."


	3. Chapter 3

**two**

**20 June 2598, 1145 hours**

**USS Pioneer, Archer IV shipyards**

Captain Edward Mantree again threw the ball against the wall of his quarters, causing it to bounce back and land in his left hand. He was bored. Bored of sitting around whilst engineers and support crew made repairs to his ship. All he could do was simply nothing. He had offered to help, but as he was "unfamiliar" with the Independence-class ship he had merely stepped out of the way and let his crew get on with their jobs.

It all sounded so strange. His ship. His crew. Ever since he had come on board it had taken him time to realise that he was in charge of the 700 crewmembers who operated the ship. Well, 250 at the moment. At least the Pioneer wasn't the only ship suffering from manpower losses. It seemed the only reason he had been promoted to captain. But why this ship? It was as if he had gone from being the king of a single country on Earth to taking over the running of an the entire planet.

There had been many who had criticised the choice of captain for the Pioneer. Mantree took solace from the fact that his crew had had a lot of experience, most of it on this very ship. As one of the flagships of the Federation, it had seen many a battle, and it was emerging as one of the best battleships in the entire Alpha Quadrant. It was almost a pity that it was more a battleship than a vessel of exploration and scientific research, but as one of his former crewmates had pointed out correctly, "There isn't much more exploring to do, and anyone who is not our ally seems to be gunning for us..."

The door chime activated. Mantree brought the ball back up to his chest, before replacing it carefully on the shelf above his bed.

"Come in."

The doors parted to reveal a tall man in a Starfleet uniform, bearing the insignia of a commander. Mantree hadn't been expecting anyone, and he was certainly surprised to see that the man at the door had pointed ears and wasn't a Vulcan.

"Captain Mantree?" the man asked, stepping into the doorway.

"Yes, that's me." Mantree realised he was still slouching on his bed and immediately stood up, straightening his uniform before extending his arm to shake the man's hand.

"I am Commander Lhaihtrha Taev, reporting for duty sir. I am to be your new first officer."

Mantree thought for a moment. Was this the Lhaihtrha Taev he had heard all about? Not taking time to think about it, Mantree continued.

"I see. I assume that Romulan Central Command approved of your transfer?"

"Yes sir, they did. Their liaison with Starfleet Command is finally starting to expand. However I was unaware that my presence was required on this ship specifically, as there are others with skeleton crews."

"I can see why you're here. You're to be my 'mother hen', so to speak."

This phrase was new to the Romulan. "My 'mother hen' sir?"

"Let me put it this way. Starfleet places me in command of a flagship, when I have very little experience of commanding a starship. You on the other hand have captained what, three ships in the Romulan fleet and have over 50 years experience of working on a starship. As a 'mother hen', you're basically watching my every move. You're like a mother, telling me what is right and wrong or what should be done. Didn't your mother do anything like that?"

"Yes sir, she did. My brother and I were taught discipline at an early age, and I have not forgotten it."

"Mother knows best, eh?"

Mantree allowed himself a chuckle, whilst his first officer smiled at the notion.

"Anyway, I need you to check how the repairs are coming along. I told Admiral Turnbull that we'd be ready by the end of today, but as you can see I've not had much to do."

"Understood."

"And I'd like to have whatever senior staff we have on the ship in the mess hall at 2000 hours tonight for an informal meal. I haven't met some of them yet and under the circumstances we could use a little morale boost."

"Of course sir. Anything else?"

"No Commander, that'll be all. And, welcome aboard."

Lhaihtrha nodded slightly. "Thank you captain," he said, before turning and heading out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Commander Lhaihtrha could hear the shouting emanating from engineering from the other end of the corridor. Good, he thought, at least I know that the chief engineer is around.

"Realign the secondary plasma injector! I don't want it blowing up in our faces and causing the whole warp engine to stall on us again..."

Lieutenant Commander Brox was rushing around, darting between the various consoles that littered the main engineering deck. The Bolian took pride in his job – no wonder, thought Lhaihtrha, as the Pioneer was one of the most advanced starships in the fleet. He had so much to look over – not just his crew but his engines as well. Lhaihtrha knew from experience that a lot of Starfleet's chief engineers who would proudly pat the engines and call them his own.

Lhaihtrha stepped forward into the din, before directing his question to the engineer. "Mr Brox?"

Brox turned round quickly, as if one of his team members was about to ask him for more work. On seeing Lhaihtrha, he simply said, "Give me a minute..." and promptly disappeared amongst the commotion. With his superior hearing, Lhaihtrha heard Brox shouting to another crewmember.

"Sammy, keep watching Injector Port 3, will you? We're almost ready to reinitialise the warp drive and if there's a power surge it'll most likely overload the injector, then I'll be annoyed because it'll take even longer to repair."

"Aye, sir."

Brox watched Sammy go about his business, and then walked up to Lhaihtrha, reaching out with his arm for a handshake.

"Commander. It's good to see you again."

Lhaihtrha smiled, returning the younger man's handshake. "I have no doubt."

"So," said Brox. "How's life treating our resident Romulan?"

"It's not too bad. I still receive letters of encouragement from my grandchildren, but I haven't started putting them or the pictures up on the wall yet..."

Brox laughed. The two of them had always been confused by some "Human rituals", most of all the one where all handmade drawings by young family members had to be erected onto the usually monotonous walls of the recipient's quarters.

"So, how are the grandchildren? Still scribbling pictures of oddly shaped nusca?"

"Ronar and Galina have just started Level 5 of the education system. They're eight years old and growing up extremely fast."

"From my experience, all children are like that. There's just no stopping them..."

Lhaihtrha noted that during their exchange, Brox had been continually shifting his gaze from engineering to the first officer. It probably means he wants to get back to his engines before something really does go wrong. Lhaihtrha got straight to the point.

"The captain would like the senior staff to meet up for a meal later in the mess hall. If you'll have finished down here that is."

"Well, I'll be able to give you an answer in about five minutes, as I'm about to try switching the warp engines on. If they're working properly, I'll be around for the meal. If not, we'll be stuck here for a while longer. Excuse me."

Brox disappeared back into the crowd, quickly gathering his team around him for a final systems check, so he could be certain that the ship was ready to depart. Lhaihtrha chose this moment to leave. Heading down the corridor to the turbolift at the far end, Lhaihtrha entered it, and asked the computer to take him to the bridge. As the doors closed behind him, Lhaihtrha thought of his grandchildren. He had been at home when they were born, aiding his own son and his wife with the errands that needed to be done. He longed for the day when he could return home and see them. But the present situation made that impossible; unfortunate, but there was nothing he could do about it. Lhaihtrha comforted himself with the fact that at least Ronar and Galina remembered him. After all, he was receiving a lot of pictures from them...

The turbolift stopped and the doors parted, allowing Lhaihtrha access to the bridge. He made his way to the centre, where he expected the captain to be sitting; but the chair was empty. Quickly scanning the bridge, he found that the captain wasn't there. As he turned to leave, a voice from behind him said:

"The captain's in his ready room. Apparently, it's 'too busy' out here."

Lhaihtrha turned, to see a human woman, no more than 35 years of age. Or was it more like 30? I can never tell, he thought.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Commander..."

"Lhaihtrha Taev, of Romulus no less. Your wife is called Narru and your family has a little Klingon blood in it, doesn't it?"

Lhaihtrha was taken aback momentarily. How did she know all this? Was she an operative for Starfleet Intelligence?

"I suppose you can tell me what my favourite drink is as well..."

The woman's face became pensive whilst she thought about it. Ah ha, thought Lhaihtrha. I've got her on that one.

"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say kali-fal."

"Well, considering how many of my people drink it it's not a surprise that you got that one right." Lhaihtrha didn't know whether to be impressed or startled at this human's ability to remember things. "Are you serving on this ship as well?"

"Oh, yes." The woman smiled, realising that she hadn't actually given her name to the first officer. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Jennifer – Jenny – Parker. I am both the tactical officer and chief of security. And I get myself a third job by being second officer too."

"Nice to meet you... Jenny. So, have you reviewed the personnel files of everyone on this ship yet?"

Parker smiled. "Isn't that your job?"

"You seemed to have gained a headstart on me, unless you were only looking at my file."

"As chief of security, looking at the files that Starfleet Command sends me on security personnel gives me a better understanding of certain people. I like to be social, but with 250 people on this ship, it'll take a while to talk to everyone. Of course, you get the 'easier' job of just looking over the personnel files of people, then you set their duty rosters and instead of you going to them, they'll go to you."

Parker turned briefly, clutching a PADD that had been lying on the console behind her.

"This is the list of personnel, complete with basic information and their usual duty hours et cetera. The captain asked me to sort out a duty roster for my teams, but as I have a lot of other work to do and it falls under your jurisdiction, would you mind?"

"Not at all." Lhaihtrha took the PADD and skimmed it, before nodding and looking up at Parker. "When do you want it by?"

"Within the next 24 hours will be good. Rumour has it we'll actually be flying out of here sooner rather than later."

"It all depends on Brox' engineering team. He seemed to have them sorted though."

"He wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, before I forget. The captain would like to see you."

"And you've spent this whole time chatting to me?"

"Would you prefer I hadn't?"

Lhaihtrha laughed, then strode down the bridge to a side door marked 'ready room'. Pushing the controls at the side, he waited a moment before Captain Mantree's voice called out "Come in." Brushing off a few bits of dirt he had acquired walking down several unfinished corridors, Lhaihtrha tapped another control, and entered the room.

Mantree was standing at the window, looking out at Archer IV, the nighttime starting to set in. Turning round, Lhaihtrha could see a half-smile on his face. Or was it a frown? He was approaching the desk when the captain decided to speak.

"We've got a mission."


	4. Chapter 4

**three**

**20 June 2598, 2135 hours**

**USS **_**Pioneer**_**, Archer IV shipyards**

It had been a long evening, but worth it. The senior staff were all gathered round a table in the vacant mess hall, which was quite dimly lit, as final systems checks were underway. The past 90 minutes had been spent chatting to each other, getting to know people they didn't know, swapping stories, telling them how wonderful it was to serve on a ship like this. It had certainly been the morale boost the captain had wanted. As the evening began to fade away, Mantree held up his hands and stopped proceedings.

"Now, I know it's not customary to start ships business in an unofficial meeting, but this may need to stay unofficial."

Mantree adjusted himself, so he could get a better view of all present. Sitting at the head of a rectangular table helped, and he looked round at his senior staff's half-eager, half-nervous faces.

"I was contacted this afternoon by President Lorel, who had orders for our first mission. Suffice it to say, he gave me two words to work with, and I'm not sure what meaning they have. They were 'Anaura' and '31'."

A low mumbling was heard as those present tried to figure out what the words meant. Included in them was Dr Mushisaki, the new Japanese CMO. Mantree thought he could see puzzlement, then a look that could only be described as stunned.

"I'm going to guess that 31 has something to do with Anaura," she said. "I'm just not sure what. But if Anaura is what I think it is..."

Parker piped up. "The biggest planetary desert there is – only no-one can seem to remember where."

The captain pushed his back against his chair. "How do you mean? I've never heard of any deserts called Anaura."

"It's no wonder. It's not exactly a typical desert. It covers the entire surface of a planet... although the legend says otherwise."

"Legend?"

Brox leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. "This wouldn't be the legend involving a supposedly 'hidden' planet, would it?"

Parker nodded. "The same."

Mantree was already confused. "What has this legend got to do with '31'?"

Brox continued Parker's story. "I don't believe it has anything to do with the number 31. But the legend of Anaura tells of a hidden planet, which broke free of its orbit around 3000 years ago, becoming a rogue planetoid. No-one knows why it stayed as a desert as other planets have turned to icy worlds. They've become uninhabitable. The legend says that Anaura is somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant, I'm not sure where."

Another voice entered the conversation, that of comm officer Nick O'Connell.

"I'm going to bet that the planetoid is in Tholian space."

Lhaihtrha turned to look at the young man. "Why do you think that?"

"Because 'Anaura' is a Tholian word. It means 'place of darkness'. Unfortunately, I haven't studied Tholian language too in-depth to tell you whether that means literally or metaphorically or both. Although I can tell you that Tholian language is incredibly complex."

Mantree leaned forward in his chair. "And what about '31'?"

Again, there was uncertainty. It didn't seem to mean anything until...

"There are 31 astral eddies in Sector 1604," said K'Jan, the Klingon conn officer. "They're so compressed together that if there was anything between them, it'd be almost impossible to retrieve."

O'Connell thought about it. "But what has that got to do with Anaura?"

"Perhaps it's the location of a secret base or something, where there are co-ordinates to the planetoid." It was Mushisaki. She had been taking in the information, trying to make heads or tails of it.

"Doubtful," said Lhaihtrha. "The gravimetric distortions would tear apart any ship approaching them. Although this ship might stand a chance..."

"Even so," said Parker. "Isn't it worth a try?"

"I may be able to help us avoid such an encounter." Brox looked round the table at his crewmates. "Unless I'm mistaken, there was an area of Starfleet Intelligence known as Section 31?"

"What would Section 31 have to do with any of this? They haven't been in operation for over 25 years! Wiped out, weren't they?"

"Officially, they never existed in the first place. People knew about them since their establishment in the 22nd century, but under orders from the previous president, they were hunted down, forced to undergo memory extraction, and then either killed or allowed to live normal lives, with no memory of their time with Section 31."

Mushisaki's face was one of shock and horror. "Isn't that a bit ruthless? Especially for the president?"

Mantree sighed. "He did it to 'protect the future of the Federation'. Whatever future that was, he wasn't living in it."

K'Jan spoke next. "Did anyone survive?"

"That's the tough question - no-one knows. Section 31 had been so secretive about their members. The reason for the memory extraction was simply because they didn't keep any records of any operation they participated in. They deemed it too valuable." Mantree stood up, pulling down the front of his shirt, and started walking round the table. "Having said that, Starfleet Intelligence believes that some of the agent's memories were retained by the operatives, so Intelligence doesn't have as much as they'd like to have had."

"But what's all this got to do with Anaura?" Parker asked.

Mantree stopped behind Lhaihtrha's seat, placing a hand on it for support, before shaking his head.

"I haven't the faintest idea. President Lorel informed me that our specific orders will be given shortly after launch at 0800 hours tomorrow morning."

"We're getting orders from the president?"

"At the moment he has more information on this than anyone else in Starfleet, and apparently he's the only one who knows about our specific mission."

Mantree went back to his seat, but leaned over the headrest on it. "I don't know about you but I could use some sleep. I want you all up and alert in the morning, we're due to have a staff meeting at 0900 hours. I assume I'll have the mission orders by then."

The rest of the senior staff stood up, some stretching and yawning as they made their way out of the mess hall and to the busy corridors beyond the double doors. Apart from Mantree, only Brox remained.

"Captain, why all this secrecy? Why not just give us our orders and let us be?"

Mantree walked to the window, looking round at the shipyards, all no doubt closing down for the night, bar this one. Brox had a very good point. Mantree realised he hadn't asked Lorel why everything was so secretive. It had never even occurred to him. There was only one thing he could say.

"Only time will tell."

* * *

_The chaos had begun. People were running round frantically, screaming constantly. Some were helping others to the nearest transport ship, others looked bewildered, yet more were standing and simply crying whilst shrieking like banshees, waiting for help, staring at the destruction around them._

_He knew what he had to do. "Get them into the ships now!" he heard himself shout across the hubbub to some of the bystanders. The wind was blowing dust and ash into his face, and he found it hard to keep moving forward. Despite this, he found more people, sheltering under a partly collapsed house. Stepping between pieces of rubble, he made his way to them, and holding out his hand, said: "You need to get to the shuttles! They'll take you to safety!" The family seemed rather reluctant to move, but he forced his hand toward them again. "Come on!" he yelled. Then, one by one, the family members stood up, taking the outstretched hand fearfully but thankfully._

_He looked over at the few shuttles still on the ground. Others were already speeding upwards, away from the planet; away from the place people had once called home. Now this home was going to become, in essence, a large rock in space. The oceans were beginning to evaporate too, and that would all but destroy the remaining ecosystems._

_He made his way to the last shuttle, staring everywhere he could, looking for any more survivors, but he found none. Stepping inside, the bitter breeze was replaced by the warmth provided by the environmental systems. As he sat down in one corner, he looked at several dispirited people; most of them were mothers clutching their children, crying endless puddles of tears._

_One man approached him, a commander it seemed, and rested his hand down on his fellow officer's shoulder. "Good work, Commander. Especially on that kind of timescale. We owe you one."_

_He watched as the commander returned to the fore of the shuttle, squeezing past several people on the way. His head was spinning. So much was happening, and all at the same time. Looking out of the nearby window, he saw a sharp red beam of light, arcing down to the surface. We're still under attack. He felt the shuttle accelerate. The ground gave way to clouds, clouds became clear sky, and the sky became space. He heard the other survivors gasping, so he stood up to see what it was._

_Out of the starboard window, he saw a ship. A gargantuan ship, being pounded by several smaller ships. The red beam was emanating from it, but it looked like it was beginning to fade. Finally, it stopped. After a few moments of nothingness, several hundred projectiles came out of the ships' underbelly, seeking out anything they could find. He watched as two ships were immediately destroyed. More were being pelted but there was nothing he could do. Then one of the torpedoes hit, knocking them all down like dominoes, and sending sparks flying. The navigation station exploded, catching its occupant unawares. The other man reached down, feeling for a pulse, but there was nothing._

_The commander looked at him, and then gestured. Come, I need your help at the controls. Not stopping for a moment, he staggered over to the blown-out navigation console. Nothing he could do there. The commander pointed to another console to his left. "This one," he said, rather frantically. "I need you to signal the _Pioneer_, tell them we need assistance."_

_Wasting no time, he tapped out a sequence, and watched as the blinking light in front of him went out. Message sent, he thought, with a sigh of relief. Nodding to the commander, he was then sent flying backwards amongst a shower of sparks. Landing hard on his back, he caught a glimpse of the planet he had thought of as his home for many years. Now it was going to be uninhabited for centuries, if not longer. As the darkness started to envelop him, he kept the image in his head._

_The image of his home planet._

_The image that contained a thousand memories._

_The image of Earth._

_And then the darkness grabbed him._


	5. Chapter 5

**four**

**Unknown time**

**Unknown location**

The fear was building in them. Such weak, pitiful little creatures. They couldn't even defend their own planet from our attack. It took many vessels to destroy just one of ours. Their defences were being analysed at this very moment. All that was to be done was to wait.

Their empire wouldn't stand a chance, thought the leader. Not against our armada. The generational ships had taken a beating somewhat, but if they could last for nearly 1500 years, they could manage absolutely anything. The ancestors would be proud of our accomplishments. If only they had been here now, ready to witness the birth of the new Saer'nar Empire.

The journey was coming to an end. They had been informed of the successful attack just days earlier. The vessel sent to dissipate an atmosphere had crossed an area of space belonging to even more foolish bipeds called 'Klingons'. They had been no match for the mighty power of our cruiser, thought the leader. They might be warriors but they hadn't stopped the forceful march of the cruiser, and the battle was all over within a matter of minutes, several Klingon ships scattering in fear of their new adversaries. According to the intelligence reports, these Klingons would give their lives to their insignificant empire. It will be easier than previously anticipated, as we shall crush them. However, they should be attacked next. Bringing down the second strongest empire would change everything, if it hadn't already changed. As if obliterating the main empire wasn't enough.

A familiar sound rang out throughout his ship, and his people came to attention. The klaxon hailed their departure from the territory claimed by the reptilian Gorn species, another unimportant, more minute empire. As the star charts showed a thick red line across a screen, the leader knew that the mission was about to get under way. As the generational armada ships crawled slowly through the remote depths of space, the leader declared in his native tongue:

"Let us begin."

* * *

The _Pioneer_ was a hive of activity, so O'Connell was amazed that he could even walk in a straight line for more than ten metres. It was 0723 hours, and the ship was due to depart in a little over half an hour. There were still people welding bulkheads into place, making final system checks, making sure that the _Pioneer_ didn't "accidentally" drop out of warp next time.

The past three months had been probably the most confusing of his life. He had gone from being a translator to several ambassadors to comm officer on the _Pioneer_, and then there had been the attack, the subsequent rescue, the relocation of an entire planet's population, and finally the return to Archer IV, being towed by three other ships. There had been no time to catch up with family or friends. All he knew was that his family was safe on Corias Prime, a planet that seemed a lifetime away. With a new mission about to be unravelled, there still wasn't time to call them. That's what I get by being a Starfleet officer, he mused, activating the turbolift controls. There was a low rumbling, which signified the arrival of an empty turbolift. As he was entering, he heard a voice calling out, "Hold please!"

O'Connell instinctively held out his arm to stop the doors from sliding shut, and saw K'Jan running towards him, before she entered the turbolift.

"Thanks," she said, dragging her fingers through her hair swiftly, making it a little more presentable.

The doors closed, and the turbolift whirred into life. There was a moment of awkward silence, before K'Jan spoke.

"So, looking forward to this mission?"

"I'm not too sure. Although searching for a planet that may or may not exist does have its advantages. But I've most been looking forward to working on this ship."

O'Connell took a short sidestep, moving away from K'Jan so he could look up at her properly. There were some days he wished he could be the height of an average human. He wasn't even sure he was half the height of K'Jan. Typical. I have a human mother but the Ithenite genes are showing more easily, he thought. His golden fez helped a little bit – although it seemed to blend more with his copper skin than add any height.

"Forgive me for intruding, I know you're a Human-Ithenite hybrid, but don't you grow taller?"

O'Connell smiled. "It's no intrusion. In fact, I get asked that all the time. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea. I'm about the right height for an Ithenite, but as I was the first hybrid... let's just say that doctors are watching me closely for any changes."

K'Jan nodded, almost laughing. "And what's with the fez?"

"I decided to try and 'blend' the cultures of my parents, but with little success. My father gave me this fez when I was 14. It's an 'initiation'... of sorts. Like the Age of Ascension for you. It also helps to distinguish between adults and children – the general height difference is minute."

"I studied exogenetics for a semester at the Academy, and learned about a few things about the overall physiology of Ithenites, but I never knew there was such little distinction. Then again, exogenetics wasn't my thing."

"So what did you end up studying?"

"Advanced Flight Training – in both shuttlecraft and the Kingdom class ships. But nothing as big as this."

O'Connell gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll do fine." K'Jan breathed a sigh of relief, before O'Connell spoke again. "I'll send out communiqués to everyone within a few light years of the ship and give them advanced warning."

"Hey!" K'Jan shot back, sending them both into laughter, as the turbolift finally stopped at the bridge. As the two stepped forwards, they were greeted by more engineers rushing around like headless chickens. Mantree spotted them and motioned for them to approach him.

"I can't wait till this lot have gone," he shouted, making sure the engineers just about heard what he was saying. "I've got a headache brewing."

K'Jan positioned herself next to the captain's chair, so she could be sure that Mantree could hear her. "Anything we can do to help, sir?"

"Wait a few minutes, then check your stations. Nick, one of this lot was uploading some new encryptions for use in this and any subsequent missions, and most of the codes have changed. The guy who was here knows what they are but he waltzed off a few minutes ago and didn't say when he'd be back. Do you think you could validate the new codes with Starfleet Command?"

"No problem, sir." Pushing his way through the crowd, O'Connell found his station. Hopping up onto the chair, he found the specially designed earpiece, useful when it was as noisy as this.

K'Jan moved to the front of the bridge, to the conn station. It was a new design, that was sure. Her station was in an arc, with a sliding chair attached to it, which could move along the arc with ease. It would most likely keep her upright in battle as well, she mused, hoping her Klingon half wouldn't suddenly take control in a time of crisis. Familiarising herself with the controls, she tried a simulated course correction to port, which worked. Good, now I know I can pilot this ship in more ways than just a straight line...

* * *

The wait was over. The engineers and support crew had left. The ship was quiet – well, as quiet as it would get. The senior staff was in attendance – only the new operations officer was missing. For the moment he had been replaced by another ensign, who was finalising all system checks.

"Ensign O'Connell, please inform Control that we are ready to depart."

"Aye, sir." O'Connell picked up his earpiece, and after placing it carefully in his right ear, he contacted Control, down on the surface of Archer IV. Moments later, he removed the earpiece and swivelled to face the captain. "We have been granted permission to depart, sir."

Mantree tapped a control on the right hand support of his chair, opening a comm link to engineering. "Bridge to engineering, please bring the warp drive online and prepare for warp speed."

"Yes, sir," came the reply from Brox, who sounded a little worn out. Mantree was sure his engineering staff had taken care of that, always asking questions, saying what an honour it was to serve with such a distinguished engineer and so on. As he sat down, he felt the hum of the engines flowing through the deck plating. All there was to do now was to give the command.

"Well, fellas, I hope this mission and any ensuing ones are a success... we all need something to go well, after the recent attack on Earth. The stakes are much higher now than ever before. We may not have many ships, but size isn't everything.

"Helm, manoeuvering thrusters only until we have cleared the yard. Then set a course on bearing 216-mark-75, warp 7."

"Aye, captain."

Mantree felt the tension on the bridge be cut like a hot knife through butter, and the anxious faces now had optimism, hoping – no, wanting – to see this mission through to the end, to show that the Federation was going to stand up against its newest aggressors.

And the _Pioneer_ went sailing into the sea of space.


	6. Chapter 6

**five**

**21 June 2598**

**USS **_**Renaissance**_**, Ogat, Klingon space**

It had been a long, tedious, but ultimately successful time of scientific research into of the strangest stars in existence. Ogat sat in space, glaring out at passing ships and spewing out a wide variety of matter, from solar flares to dangerously high amounts of radiation. It had taken months to authorise this project. As the Klingons hadn't been so scientific with their original approach, the _Renaissance_ had become the first Federation ship to study this star. A star which, unexpectedly, orbited another star, M'Char, 0.6 light years away. The orbiting time of this star was an incredible 18 years, based on their calculations. Captain Timms found himself thankful that there were no planets in orbit of Ogat, or the possibility of a collision between them and the planets already orbiting M'Char.

Timms wandered over to the large science station, which was manned by three occupants, each of whom were still staggered by their findings. The console directly in front of him told him that Ogat was now giving off large amounts of radiation, going nowhere in particular.

"You almost done?" he asked a lieutenant at the aft station.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out one last detail. There's an abnormal shift in solar activity in the lower corona. It wasn't there before."

Timms nodded and headed back to his seat. After five months of analysis, there was nothing that could have surprised him. This however, did. Was the star somehow sentient, asking them to stay and study a while longer? Did it have more secrets that they had missed? He was about to find out.

The lieutenant's face suddenly became confused. "Sir, long range sensors are picking up an enormous fleet of unidentified ships, proceeding at low warp toward Federation territory. And I'm also picking up an energy signature emanating from the corona. It might be a ship."

"How is that possible? We've been here all this time and not detected it?"

"Is it possible that the vessel was cloaked, and then decloaked as it was entering the corona?"

"I don't think so, I haven't read any reports on ships that can do that, at least, not yet. Transmit your findings to Starfleet, they may have an idea."

The lieutenant operated her console, but Timms noted the error sounds that came from it moments later.

"All transmissions have been jammed, sir," she declared. "I've cycled through all the channels."

It only took a moment for Timms to realise the predicament he was in.

"Red alert! Shields up!" he bellowed, as the ship was struck hard, catching most people off-guard.

"Evasive manoeuvres! Return fire!" he shouted to his lieutenant.

The _Renaissance_ darted manically from side to side, up and down, trying to confound its mysterious attacker. Phasers were fired in all directions, but to no avail. The attacker fired again and again, pounding the _Renaissance_ with tremendous force. Recognising the fact that his ship might not last for much longer, Timms gave a new order.

"Put all of our data, ship's and personal logs into an emergency buoy, quickly! Send it deeper into Klingon space if you have to!" His crew followed his orders, and Timms watched as the buoy was released, hopefully taking over five months' worth of invaluable data to Starfleet. That is, if the Klingons don't destroy it. Finally, some good news arrived. No, he thought, it's not good.

"Captain, sensors are showing me that the vessel that is attacking us is of the same configuration as the one which attacked Earth."

So that was who was attacking them. The Saer'nar. Now it made all made sense.

"Lieutenant, are any of those ships in the fleet also of the same configuration as this one?"

"Confirmed. At least 12 ships are the same."

"I don't know how you'll get this message through to Starfleet, but tell them that the Saer'nar are on their way and we will be heavily outnumbered. Now I wonder if surrender is an option?"

His bridge crew looked baffled by the suggestion, but Timms made himself clear amongst the shots.

"We've taken heavy damage, there's not much else we can do. I doubt they'll listen to reason, so I have a backup plan. We destroy this ship. Ram it into them, at least we could cause some damage."

His crew seemed defeated by that. "Do you really think we'll get out of this alive?"

"What about the escape pods? Surely it's worth a try."

Timms considered it, thinking of the pros and cons. We could live, we could get killed. If we stay on this ship... we'll be killed anyway. "Alright. Who's coming?"

The crew moved into action, as a new klaxon tore through the ship. Timms set the self-destruct for two minutes. With luck, that'll be all the time we need. He also set auto-navigation so that the Renaissance would stay as close as possible to the Saer'nar ship when it exploded. He just hoped he would be far away by that point.

Climbing into the last escape pod, Timms quickly surveyed the bridge. This ship and he had been through a lot together, and he felt himself welling up inside. "Thank you," he murmured, before shutting the door of the pod and sealing it. Within seconds, he felt the pod hurtle away from the ship, and into the great unknown. And then he watched as the _Renaissance_ shattered, debris breaking off like broken glass from a mirror, and then it was gone.

* * *

The waves crashed over the promenade, sending the seagulls away in one go, whilst gaining applause from some of the younger children standing well clear with their relatives. Apart from the seagulls sounding their annoyance at losing their food to the sea, and the sea itself moving up and down the beach, the only sound Mantree could hear was the gentle whistling of the wind. There was a genuine sense of calm he got from sitting up on the hill, slowly breathing in the sea breeze, letting the stresses of his job just disappear with the wind.

Mantree heard the sound of the holodeck's doors open and close, and eventually heard the soft sounding footsteps coming from behind him.

"Am I interrupting?"

Mantree looked up at his visitor. "No, not at all. Have a seat, Commander."

His Romulan executive officer sat down on the hillside, keenly gazing at the spectacle. "I don't believe I have seen this program before. Does it serve a special purpose?"

Mantree nodded. "There are a few thousand holoprograms, this one is listed amongst my personal favourites. Pointing to the large cluster of buildings below, he continued. "This is the town of Aberystwyth, on Earth. It has been here for a few hundred years, expanding and becoming a port of commerce. I asked the computer to set it to the early 21st century, as you can't see technology like you can on a starship. I come here often, mainly to relax. No special purpose."

"Why this place? There are many other towns and cities, not just on Earth, that would offer the same experience."

"I'm not sure really. I picked it at random from a list of places one of my close friends said I should visit." His face became solemn. "I don't suppose I'll be able to visit the real Aberystwyth or any other Earth town or city now." He paused, letting the feeling sink in, then turned to Lhaihtrha. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"I came to inform you that we are about six hours from the Tholian border. We haven't detected any 'missing planets' yet, but we did receive a distress call from a Cardassian freighter."

"Oh?"

"Unfortunately it had already been destroyed. I ordered that the ship carry on, in the hopes of finding Anaura."

"Did the Cardassians mention anything in their distress call as to who attacked them?"

"Unfortunately not, sir. Their beacon was automated."

Mantree sighed, letting himself take in a last breath of the sea breeze. He stood up, signaling for his first officer to do the same.

"Computer, end program and show exit."

The two men began walking out of the double doors that parted before them, turning into the corridor beyond, as the vista behind them disappeared, leaving only the yellow lines and grey slats of the hologrid visible.

"So," began Mantree. "Has Starfleet sent us the authorisation codes to enter Tholian space yet?"

"Ensign O'Connell is decrypting them now. He is finding some of the new algorithms quite complex – obviously that was the plan."

"Starfleet has to be cautious now anyway. We barely have enough ships to fight a war. A lot has changed in the past few months, and we need to recover quickly. Very quickly, in fact. Past experience has taught me that there's always a new threat just around the corner, ready to take over."

They entered Stellar Cartography, a large, round room with a small platform in the middle and a walkway extending up to it. Mantree often felt like he was floating in space in an EV suit as you could see all the stars around you.

"Where are we now, in relation to our heading?"

Lhaihtrha brought up an image of a lesser populated region of Federation space, which showed a thin and meandering blue line between different stars and planets. On one side it was blue, signifying Federation territory, and the other side was a light shade of orange, representing Tholian space. There were no planets on the Tholian border, at least not for 15 light years. Wise precaution, thought Mantree. It gives the Tholians time to intercept any uninvited guests. A thick yellow line appeared on the far wall, denoting the progress the Pioneer had made. There was a dotted yellow line after it, showing the route that the ship had yet to take. Mantree looked over at Tholian space. It appeared as though it was a large blob of paint drawn on a map. Apart from the centre, the remaining sections were like branches, stretching out as far as the Tholians could take them. The search for Anaura could take longer than expected. Unless of course the Tholians knew where it was...

"We will arrive at the border in five hours and 41 minutes, sir. The Federation Council requested that a vessel be sent to escort us through their space. I am somewhat confused by the necessity for such an occurrence though."

"Well, there are two reasons really. First of all, the Tholians aren't likely to just let us search their space for a planet that may or may not be there are they? Secondly, the president feels that it may help to strengthen the relationship between our governments. I can certainly understand that. Have you been able to come up with a search grid yet?"

"With the data available, it is difficult to make an accurate guess as to the extent of space controlled by the Tholian Assembly, but from what we've gathered, it will take around seven to eight weeks."

Great, thought Mantree. As if it couldn't be hard enough already. The Tholians were still quite xenophobic, but times were changing, and they were beginning to accept (albeit vigilantly) that other species were willing to give aid to them. They still didn't allow many ships to venture outside of their borders, but mutual co-operation was forming, and the Federation was more than enthusiastic to accept them as allies.

"Let me know when we've arrived at the border," Mantree said, and headed off to his quarters.


	7. Chapter 7

**six**

**22 June 2598**

**USS **_**Pioneer**_**, on the border of Tholian space**

"Any sign of our escort?"

The bridge was brightly illuminated, and the crew occupying it were rubbing the sleep from their eyes, adjusting to the light. They had only received a few hours sleep, as they knew the Tholians wouldn't wait around for long. Unfortunately, they hadn't turned up yet, two hours later. All they could do was wait – and hopefully not fall asleep from exhaustion.

Thankfully, the delay was ended 15 minutes later, when an alarm to the right hand side of the bridge went off, telling them that a ship was approaching. Then one ship became two.

"This is very unbecoming of them," said Mantree, who had taken up his position in the centre of the bridge. "Open hailing frequencies."

O'Connell complied, and informed Mantree that the channel was open. But before he could speak, a series of whines and screeches came pouring out of the speakers. Everyone flinched automatically, with the exception of the Vulcan manning ops, who was better at adjusting to high pitched squeals than the rest of them. Only O'Connell had any idea of what they were saying. He didn't need to translate verbally, however, as the Tholian's 'voice' was registered by a computer which spoke clear English itself, although in a stuttered way.

"Starfleet ship _Pioneer_. You have entered Assembly space. Prepare to submit identification codes and all necessary documentation."

"Nice to meet you too," whispered Mantree to the amusement of the bridge crew. "Nick?"

O'Connell found himself busy again, searching for the right codes and transmitting them to the awaiting ships. A moment or two passed, then the Tholian spoke again, after another round of squeals and shrieking.

"Identification confirmed. To whom am I speaking."

"This is Captain Edward Mantree, commanding officer of the _Pioneer_."

"Captain Mantree. We must speak. In person."

Mantree was baffled by this request. "I'm not sure I understand. Last time I checked none of our two peoples could beam onto any ship belonging to each other and survive for long, without proper quarantine procedures being undertaken."

"I will beam onto your vessel immediately." The comm channel closed, leaving uncertainty on the visages of all around. All became clear as the buzz of a transporter beam was heard all over the bridge, and a Tholian materialised in front of astonished faces. There was a moment of silence. By this point, any normal Tholian would have 'exploded' from the cold. But not this one. Mantree was the first to speak.

"Do you wish to discuss in private, sir?"

The Tholian looked around, focussing on the human's face. "That would be appropriate."

"Then please, follow me."

Mantree led the life-form down to the front of the bridge, and to a partly hidden side door, which was his ready room. When the doors had closed, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"And I thought nothing else could surprise me," said Parker, folding her arms and leaning against a bulkhead.

"Well," said Mushisaki, who had joined the senior staff on the bridge. "It looks like the Tholians know what we're after."

"It depends on their knowledge of 'missing planets'. If it has been here all along, it shouldn't be difficult to find."

* * *

The Tholian commander was 'sitting' in the captain's ready room, standing by to give the human his orders. Mantree could see a faint white light flickering around different segments of the Tholian's carapace. Must be some sort of EV suit, he pondered. He rounded the table and sat down at his customary seat, before placing his hands on the table.

"So, Commander, what do you know of Anaura?" he started. He hoped that the Tholians' disrespect for non-essential conversation would work in his favour.

"Anaura is legend. Our people have attempted to locate the planetoid for centuries with no success."

"Did our government inform you of our mission?"

"Your president contacted us to tell us of your mission to locate Anaura. It does not exist. We have decided that you will not be able to cross Assembly space."

Mantree groaned. Coming all this way for nothing. He wasn't going to settle for that. The Tholians had to at least give him the courtesy of telling him the legend of Anaura. But that still wouldn't be enough.

"I'm betting that you don't want to tell me where Anaura is because you have some vital information stored there that you don't want anyone else to look at."

Mantree realised that whilst he could try to deduce the truth from a Tholian, he would never know if it was working as they didn't have 'faces'. He would have to go the long way round.

"Trust me, Commander. I have been given this mission and I intend to see it through to the end – to it's successful and inevitable end."

The commander remained silent, keenly observing the human's movements as he walked to each side of his ready room.

"Give me one reason why I should tell you."

"Alright. On stardate 5693.2, or Earth year 2268, a Tholian commander by the name of Loskene told Commander Spock of the starship _Enterprise_ that you "do not tolerate deceit". When it's by us you bring down the judgement of your laws as firmly as possible, but when it is you who are deceitful it is let go. You may have changed, but I'm sure that characteristic is still present in your species."

A moment of silence. Then came the breakthrough that Mantree had been looking for.

"You are correct, Captain. Deceit is not in our being. Anaura is positioned 82.7 light years away from Tholia. But be aware – it is in a region of space known as void space. There are no stars or other planets located in this region. The planet is virtually undetectable and its co-ordinates are constantly shifting. To complete this segment of your mission will require great knowledge on star deserts."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I have a crew of 700, someone is bound to know about them. And will you be escorting us?"

"Affirmative. Both of my ships are to escort you as far as the void."

"Why aren't you going any further?"

"The Assembly has strict protocol regarding Anaura. There are to be no incursions by any Assembly ships into the void, unless given clearance from the Supreme Commander."

"I see. Well then, Commander, we are ready to proceed. At your convenience of course."

"Very well. We shall part immediately. I have one last request which I demand of you. All your weapons systems will remain deactivated whilst you are in Assembly space."

And with that, the commander vanished, transporting back to his own ship. Mantree made his way back to the bridge. "Helm, follow the Tholian ships. Match their course and speed."

"Aye, sir," replied K'Jan. The deck plates reverberated the hum of the warp engines, and they were away.


	8. Chapter 8

**seven**

**23 June 2598**

**Lakendi II**

"With all due respect, Mr President, one of the reasons the Federation has a Council is to deliberate over the decisions made by people in your position and to give a ruling on it, no matter whether the action has been undertaken or not. It has been this way since the inception of the Federation."

Ambassador Grolek Tepp's deep and unmistakable voice echoed through the makeshift Council chamber, echoing off the thick walls that comprised the interior of Lakendi II's Monarchical Congress chamber, where the Federation Council had chosen to convene. As the Lakendians had only recently become part of the Federation, it had been a great surprise to accept the Council and President onto their planet so soon, but in these dire circumstances, there really had been no choice. The Lakendian people had been busy preparing their planet for the visit, which seemed to have become permanent. If any danger arose, the Council would be transported off the planet by the orbiting _Enterprise_-J and taken to another location, preferably one not in so much open space.

"With all due respect, Mr Ambassador, I would rather be discussing the current situation with these aliens than what I have or could have done."

"I thought you might." Turning away briefly, Grolek picked up a data node, and placed it on the table in front of him. Tapping a few buttons, a large 3-D map was projected holographically into the empty space above the node. A large, blue, and central section appeared – the United Federation of Planets, no less. Adjacent to that, a smaller red area appeared – the Klingon Empire. Beyond that, the greyness of the Gorn Hegemony seemed to cower in its own little space.

The next item to appear was a series of thick yellow lines, extending from off the edge of the map as far as the edge of Federation territory, with one line going all the way to Earth itself.

"This," started Grolek, "is a detailed map of incursions by the new guys on the block, the Saer'nar."

Lorel stopped him. "The Saer'nar? How were you able to deduce their name when there has been no formal contact?"

"The _Enterprise_ located a data module from the wreckage and have had their best linguists working on it day and night since. Their language is incredibly different to anything we've ever seen – it's half symbolism and have alphanumerical. But one of the most commonly used words is translated as meaning "Saer'nar" - and as it's one of the only pronounceable words by our standards, we've chosen to use it. Back to this map," - Grolek motioned to the hologram - "we've been able to extrapolate roughly where these ships are heading, and where other ships have been."

"How did you get this information originally?"

"You remember our former president?"

Who could forget him, thought Lorel. Medji Crassana, a Zalkadian, had taken office with a firm hand – perhaps too firm at times – but he had settled some of the most difficult conflicts in Federation history. Then came The Purge.

This sole event was one of the main features of President Medji's reign, and it had been rather disturbing throughout the Federation – if not the entire Alpha Quadrant. It had all been started by the mere whisper of Section 31's name. The rogue organisation had been left alone by the majority of presidents, but this time he wasn't going to let them get away with anything. And as quietly as they operated, so quietly operated Starfleet Security, ordered to track down all members of Section 31 through stealth and subterfuge. Once they had been found, there would be nowhere to run.

The whole operation began in 2570. Security members infiltrated Section 31 to it's highest level, and then, in 2573, the operation was in full swing. A huge base of sorts had been found on Fara Prime, a world not too far from each of the core worlds of the Federation. A perfect strike point.

Then it all kicked off. Starfleet Security took less than two days to capture all but five members of Section 31 and bundle them onto a cargo vessel. They were taken to an uninhabitable planet and held in captivity there. As Section 31 had no written records, Medji had ordered Security to "purge" their memories in order to find out information. A few had escaped, just. Most of the prisoners were killed off afterwards, so there would be no trace of the missing agents. Efficient, but brutal.

"Section 31's files were stored in an location known only to Starfleet's C-in-C and few others including yourself, Mr President. Fortunately, during the attack, a few more people became aware of the existence of these files and through various means we were able to track them down to a planetoid in Tholian space we've deduced is called Anaura – quite literally, 'place of darkness'."

"Mr Ambassador, please get to the point." Lorel wasn't interested in time-wasting, not now. There was a civilisation to be saved, and he wasn't going to be the one who led to its downfall by standing around and doing nothing.

"Well, we've noticed that the Saer'nar have come into contact with several vessels, mostly Klingon, and their fleet is most of the way through their space and is on its way to Earth. We estimate they will reach the planet in approximately 12 days time."

It didn't make sense. _Why attack Earth when it is crippled beyond help?_

"We must slow down these ships somehow. Admiral Turnbull, can we intercept the Saer'nar fleet before its too late?"

The human looked slightly bemused at being called to the fore of the proceedings, but he obliged nonetheless and stepped forward.

"We have 23 ships currently hiding in the Lembatta Cluster, as a bit of a surprise for the Saer'nar, but I don't think it'll be effective enough."

"How many ships do the Saer'nar have, Mr Ambassador?"

Grolek peered at a monitor and spoke. "There are 44 in their main fleet, plus two heading off for the outer colonies. But there's no doubt about it, their main strike point will be Earth."

Another of the ambassadors present, an Aaamazzarite named Hiryiaaa, stood up, and a small light blinked on in front of her, indicating that she wished to speak.

"Madam Ambassador," said Lorel, motioning for her to step forward.

Hiryiaaa help up her hand, signalling that she preferred to stand where she was.

"Ambassador Grolek, do you have reasonable evidence to confirm that Earth will be attacked again? Are there not other choice worlds such as my own, which surely pose a much greater threat to these Saer'nar?"

Lorel looked at Grolek, and saw a visage of puzzlement creep over his face. Hiryiaaa was right – it did all seem a little strange. According to the map still displayed on the holoprojector, even Qo'noS was a more tempting target.

"I see your point, Madam President, but I believe the Saer'nar are attempting to penetrate the core of the Federation, as they will be able to go outwards from there and meet little resistance."

Hiryiaaa sat down, apparently satisfied by Grolek's answer. The Xindi continued.

"I believe it is in our best interest to ask our allies for some help – namely, ships from the Klingon and Romulan fleets. With a joint attack, we may be able to slow down this armada."

Lorel wasn't going to point out the flaw, but saw that no-one else would dare, so he did.

"Mr Ambassador, it took a combined effort of 53 Starfleet ships to destroy a single cruiser. To destroy an entire fleet would ask for much more than that. Would the Romulans and the Klingons be willing to spare so many ships for a possibly suicidal assault?"

A few murmurs spread through the Council chamber. This would be a split vote, Lorel was sure.

"With permission from you, Mr President, I would like to propose a vote on this matter."

Lorel nodded, sure that most would be against it. _The Klingons might join us, they like a good fight. The Romulans however wouldn't be so keen._

"All those in favour?"

Lorel watched as members voted, and the results came in on the hastily erected screen at the fore of the chamber. Lorel was surprised when he saw that the members were voting in favour of the proposal.

He was even more surprised when he saw that _everyone_ had voted in favour.


	9. Chapter 9

**23 June 2598**

**USS **_**Pioneer**_**, Anaura, Tholian space**

They had found it. Anaura was sitting in space, darkened by the star desert surrounding it. The ship was recovering from the damage caused by the gravimetric distortions on the way in, but there was nothing major to tend to. On the viewscreen, there was almost nothing to see. Only sensors confirmed that the planetoid was even there. Mantree paced to the front of the bridge in an attempt to get a closer look.

"Unbelievable," he heard Parker mutter. "It's actually here."

Lhaihtrha ran a few scans. "There are a few structures, cluttered around the place, but there are no discernable energy signatures."

"Is that surprising? If there was an energy signature everyone would know about this place." Taking another quick look at the planetoid, Mantree turned and headed to the turbolift. "Parker, you're with me."

Lhaihtrha was, unsurprisingly, the first to react. "But Captain, Starfleet regulations strictly prohibit - "

"I'm well aware of regulations, Commander, but the president has granted me permission to participate in this away mission. Because of the security concerns, I am bringing Parker along."

Parker seemed confused, but Mantree knew that she understood. "Aye, sir."

The two of them went to the turbolift. Once inside, the doors closed.

"Deck 12, aft shuttlebay," Mantree said to the computer, and the turbolift whirred into life. "We have to take a shuttle for a number of reasons. Mainly the fact that a transporter can be traced easily. No-one is to know we were here. Secondly, the Tholians are no doubt watching us. It may not seem like they are here, but I know they are. They have some of their own intelligence stored here."

"Understood. But why bring me?"

"Like I said, security is the main reason. You're also to act as a witness – making sure I get only what is necessary. We need to get a mobile computer for this mission, because we'll be uploading a lot of information."

The exterior lights of the shuttle _Genesis_ were operating at maximum efficiency, attempting to ascertain the distance between the shuttle and the ground. It's better this way, thought Parker. At least you don't see the ground rushing up at you. She had felt a little nauseous, but on the _Pioneer_ it didn't affect her at all. Cradling the mobile computer in her lap, she had let her captain do the piloting. After all, he was more experienced, and at least he could use the sensors to see where he was going.

The lights focussed on a small building up ahead. Parker leaned forward in her seat to see the structure, which looked like it was in ruins. "We're here," said Mantree. He edged the shuttle down to a flat piece of ground next to the building. Once the shuttle had stopped, Mantree went to the aft section and pulled out two sets of infrared sensors, two phaser rifles, and two headlamps. Parker looked at him, puzzled by the headlamps. "Just in case," he said. Taking all their gear, the two officers opened the shuttle door, and headed out into the interminable night.

Brox had come onto the bridge as there was nothing happening in engineering. There had been no word from the captain as yet. Lhaihtrha was unsure as to the protocol on special missions, such as whether the captain should report in every few minutes. He would just have to wait and find out.

O'Connell was silent at his station, listening to the comm channels carefully, hoping to pick something up. It was doubtful in this region, so he decided to strum impatiently on the console, to the annoyance of his colleagues. He stopped immediately when he noticed everyone on the bridge was staring at him.

The silence was finally broken when the ops station went off. Brox went over to look at it.

"Sensors are picking up something on the surface, other than the away team. I'm not sure what though, there's too much interference."

Lhaihtrha turned to face O'Connell. "I think it's best if we maintained radio silence."

"Agreed. Surely their tricorders will pick up whatever it is. And seeing as they're in a better position than we are, they'll stand more of a chance."

The building was empty. Debris was everywhere, making both Mantree and Parker do a bit of climbing in places.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" asked Parker.

"I can't tell you that. It's classified," replied Mantree.

"Is it something to do with Section 31?" The insistence was growing. Mantree stopped and positioned himself so he could see Parker.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Pretty much. We spoke about Section 31 in our unofficial meeting the other night. You haven't given any reason to the contrary that it wouldn't be them."

The younger man sighed. "If it's any consolation, I never really wanted to get involved with Section 31's stuff. Even if their agents are dead or alive, their information is highly sought after."

"So what's it doing out here on this barren rock?"

"There are a few reasons. First of all, if this information is placed in the wrong hands, it could spell trouble for pretty much everyone. Second, the Federation is trying to reach out to the Tholians and ally with them. We're placing a great amount of trust in them to keep our information safe without them perusing the contents of it. They can be protective – well, overprotective of property in their space. And third, this is the perfect hiding place. A planet hidden in a star desert, surrounded by large gravimetric distortions and deep within Assembly space… that's good."

"Did Starfleet even know this place existed?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Possibly. You'll have to ask the C-in-C that one, if and when the existence of Anaura becomes public knowledge. And if the C-in-C even knows…"

He turned and carried on picking his way through the rubble, until he spotted a small light beaming from a corner. "Over here," he said, pulling out his tricorder to get a better idea of what he was seeing. Parker made her way over, and found Mantree kneeling next to an active computer terminal. He pressed the only blinking button, and the screen lit up with pictures, text, diagrams, in fact a wealth of information. "Bingo," said Mantree. "You can attach the mobile computer to this access port. Upload everything, then wipe the system."

Moving out of the way for Parker, Mantree stood up and peered round the corner. There was a brief flash of light down the end of the corridor. Mantree stared more intensely. There was something moving in the shadows.

Twenty minutes had passed. The mobile computer was still uploading the information and Mantree was becoming impatient. He had been looking up and down the corridors, searching the light he had seen before, but with no success. He was still adamant that someone – or something – was hiding in the shadows, ready to make a move when he and Parker were most vulnerable. He glanced briefly at the computer bank they had found, which had several diagrams crossing the screen at high speed.

"You done yet?"

Parker gave him a look. "Come on, with this much information? It would take Starfleet's elite a few _years_ to look over all this."

Mantree turned back, to see another very brief flicker of light. They definitely had company. He feared that if he told Parker out loud, whoever was there would hear him, so he tiptoed over to where Parker was sitting, and crouched down. "We've got company," he whispered. Quickly returning to his previous position, he made sure that their visitors hadn't made up any ground on them.

Suddenly, a shot rang out from nowhere, missing Mantree by mere inches. The captain felt it burn slightly at his face, but did no damage. Instinctively, he fired at the position the blast had come from, hoping to hit a target. He couldn't tell however, as more shots came flying at him. There was more than one person shooting, that was sure. But why weren't they detected before? Firing off a few more rounds, Mantree whipped out his tricorder and began scanning the corridor intently. Apparently, no-one was there. Then he remembered that he had been warned about the distinct lack of sensors over long periods of time.

Parker joined him, laying herself flat, shooting in the general direction of the enemy. Mantree signalled to her that he was going to go round to the back of them, to see who they were. She returned the OK gesture, and focussed on distracting their guests.

Mantree hopped over more rubble, trying not to emit any sound, hoping that the weapons fire would provide cover. He found himself next to the edge of the building, where numerous windows had been obliterated. Peering around the corner, he spotted the opponents.

Tholians.

This was getting weirder. They weren't allowed here, were they? Mantree was in two minds. What to do next? The good old two-pronged attack? Or leave them be? He opted for a third choice.

"Hey!" he shouted at the group of Tholians, who suddenly turned, weapons trained on the captain. Mantree knew Parker would be confused right now, but she would probably understand what he was doing.

One of the Tholians approached him, still wielding its weapon, before speaking by use of his translator.

"Captain Mantree, you are not allowed to be here, by order of the Tholian Assembly."

Mantree stared at him. "I think you'll find that this mission is authorised. I am collecting data files belonging to the Federation."

The Tholian ignored his statement. As he was about to speak again, he saw Parker give him the thumbs up and begin to walk off with the mobile computer. As the Tholian leader was about to turn, Mantree got his attention.

"What are you doing here?"

"That is none of your concern."

_Think, think, think! Keep them distracted…_

"I need to report your presence here to your Supreme Commander. He won't be very… happy that you have disobeyed one of your most essential laws – not to come to Anaura."

Parker had disappeared by now, making a break for the shuttle no doubt. The Tholian eyed Mantree suspiciously, and the captain realised he was looking a little too much over at where Parker had been. He turned around, clicking and squealing at two of his team. They marched off, heading for the computer terminal that the two humans had just been at.

"Well? What have you got to say for yourselves?" Mantree was ready to run for his life if he needed to. He was running out of ideas to keep the Tholians occupied. As they readied their weapons, preparing to fire, Mantree saw another flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Must be another group of Tholians, he mused, readying himself for the worst

"We are the Children of Destiny," said the Tholian. "We answer to no-one, not even the corrupt Assembly. We come and go as we please."

"Does the Assembly know about you?"

"Yes. They rejected us so we have rejected them. Change is needed. We will provide that change."

"Sounds like you're interested in running for government," said Mantree. No, not very funny, especially in this situation. "How will you take control of the Assembly?"

"By force. We will not be defeated."

No point trying to reason with the Tholians, thought Mantree. They'd rather shoot me now and get it over with. He heard a sound from behind him, then noticed he was standing very close to the ledge.

"Want any help from us?"

The Tholian was glaring at him now. Mantree heard their weapons powering up.

"Worth a try," he said. Then he walked backwards off the ledge.


	10. Chapter 10

**23 June 2598**

**Shuttle _Genesis_, Anaura**

Mantree had landed quite painfully on his back, practically back-flipping into the shuttle. The Tholians had been taken very much by surprise, expecting the human to have fallen to his death, but the lights and sounds Mantree had seen and heard had been Parker, piloting the shuttle up to just below the ledge where Mantree had been standing. The captain grunted, lifting himself up from the floor, and shut the shuttle's door. Taking off his backpack, he clambered into the seat next to Parker.

"Thanks," he said, before grimacing as another wave of pain hit him. "But next time, please come a _little_ further up…"

Parker smiled, then the sensor board got her attention. "We've got a ship on our tail. Tholian! I thought they weren't allowed here!"

"Remind me to launch a long and complicated protest with the Assembly. They'll listen to it with great enthusiasm…" said Mantree, rather sarcastically.

"…and do nothing about it," finished Parker.

The _Genesis_ arced up into the air, the Tholian vessel not far behind it. Parker directed the shuttle around a few buildings, hoping to lose the Tholians in the former city. Unfortunately, they were too quick, and stuck to the _Genesis'_ tail like it was attached by a rope. A few blasts took out some of the older structures, missing the _Genesis_ by less than Mantree wanted to remember. Realising that no matter where they were, the Tholians would still be on their tail, Parker sent the shuttle soaring away from the surface, into the night sky and toward the awaiting _Pioneer_. With a clear shot, the Tholians wasted little time. Battering the shuttle with a few quick volleys, the _Genesis_ launched a few torpedoes toward the larger ship, which was gaining on them. A wave of inspiration came to Parker.

"Hold on," she said, as she took the _Genesis_ into an L-4, sending them over the top of the Tholian ship and ending up behind them. Now their target was easier to see. A few phaser blasts did some visible damage to the Tholian's shields, and both ships were fast approaching the upper atmosphere. The _Pioneer_ was still sitting there, awaiting instructions. As soon as the Tholian ship came into range, the larger ship came about, firing its own phasers at the vessel, which stood next to no chance. As the smaller ship scuttled away, the _Genesis_ moved towards the aft shuttlebay and docked. Mantree and Parker grabbed their gear, and exited to the shuttle, just in time to see O'Connell walk through the bay doors.

"You definitely know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"Of course. Now, let's see what we've got…"

Lhaihtrha had assembled the senior staff in the command centre. They were only there because they had the proper facilities with which to look at the files they had collected. Mantree wasn't sure what they'd find, as all the files belonged to Section 31. Some of the information could have been falsified. They could even be missing key parts from it. Oh well, he thought, having something is better than nothing. Starfleet wouldn't have sent them all this way to retrieve sensitive information if it wasn't true.

He didn't even know what they were looking for. It wasn't as if he could call the president and ask him right now. They'd just have to work it out themselves… hopefully. Motioning for his staff to sit down, he picked an active file at random and began playback.

* * *

**03 November 2597**

**Unknown location**

Dan Lomax was having an ordinary day. Nothing unusual had caught his attention today, nor was it likely to. He came within reach of his own work space when something caught his eye. His computer screen had the words "Counsel required – Donares – Room 382." Donares, Donares, Donares. Lomax had heard the name before, but he couldn't remember who it was. No, hang on, it was the kind lady who had bought him a drink one morning in the bar. Emma? Elsie? No – Ella. That was it. Ella Donares. Lomax remembered that she worked in Intelligence, but she casually told him that she couldn't say what that involved. No doubt she's keeping Starfleet off our backs, and they don't even know we're here.

Starfleet's official position on Section 31 had been that they didn't exist in the first place, but that hadn't stopped them hunting down its members and taking them out one by one. It had been a purging of sorts. Starfleet had come to think of Section 31 as extremely dangerous. What they hadn't known was that Section 31 had been looking out for the Federation's best interests over all this time, watching as potential threats unfolded or the government was preparing to take the Federation in the wrong direction.

Lomax picked up the PADD and headed to the stairwell. Walking down three floors he found room 382, knocking on the door before opening it. There, sitting uncomfortably on a chair, was Ella. Lomax sidled into the room with a brief smile, found himself a vacant chair, and sitting down in front of her, introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Dan Lomax. I've been assigned as your counsel today."

"Dan, hi. Didn't I buy you a drink or something?"

Lomax smiled. "My first day of work here. I had no idea how to use the machine, and you bought me a cappuccino. I guess I was too hooked on replicators to know how to operate something as simple as a coffee machine."

"Yes, I remember you saying that. Seeing as you grew up in a technological environment in must have been hard for you to revert to the simplicity of this place."

"Well, the technology here is pretty sophisticated as well. Although I have tried to stay away from it." Lomax nodded. "So, what seems to be the problem?"

Donares shifted uneasily on her seat. "I was involved in an accident two months ago on assignment at Sigma Theta. Whilst landing a shuttle in terrible atmospheric conditions I was knocked unconscious with a concussion. Shortly afterwards, I had a vision."

Lomax was intrigued. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"Positive. When you dream you don't usually realise it. Sometimes you do. Your subconscious becomes active and you find yourself in a dream setting, but it only lasts for a few seconds. In the vision I had, I could feel myself as if I were actually alive at that moment."

"Why is this vision important?"

"I believe the Federation may be in danger. I saw a fleet of ships entering our galaxy. Complete unknowns who had been on a devastating trip, a never-ending voyage, across the stars and the infinite void of space between galaxies. They're coming for us."

"Surely our outposts would have detected something by now, especially a fleet of ships. Do you know who they are?"

Donares started to tremble ever so slightly. "I thought I saw one of them, but it was very blurry. I couldn't make anything out."

Lomax noted this down. He didn't really believe any of it, but he hesitated to say it out loud. I'm supposed to be helping this poor woman, he thought, not traumatising her.

"Anything else I should be aware of? Any sleeping problems, any other health problems or concerns?"

Donares shook her head. "No. No problems."

"OK. I have to go and set up an active profile for you and file this report. If you have any worries – any at all – don't hesitate to come and see me."

"Thank you." Donares watched as Lomax left the room. Outside, Lomax found another operative, cradling his chin in the palm of his hand. He had been listening to the conversation, obviously hoping to get a positive result from it.

"With all due respect, sir," started Lomax. "I don't think you should be here."

The other man looked at Lomax with steely eyes. "That's not for you to decide."

Lomax began walking to the stairwell, but found his route blocked by the elder man. "What is your final conclusion to this report?"

Lomax looked up. "I haven't even started the report. Maybe you could inject a little patience into your life, it will be most gratefully received by us all."

He shoved past the elder man, and headed up the stairs. The last thing I need is him watching my every move. Back in his office, he sat down at his computer terminal and began to write. 'Subject – Donares, Ella. Brief outline – visions, not caused by health problems. Saw fleet of ships arriving from far away. Was involved in shuttle accident two months ago.' He paused. At this point he had to decide whether or not to agree with Ella. That was hard enough. Oh well, she'll never know. Placing his hands over the keyboard, he typed 'Psychiatric unit may be required for Ms. Donares.' Wiping the sweat from his brow, he saved his report, and went to grab some lunch.


	11. Chapter 11

**23 June 2598**

**Padena VII**

Samuel Samanya was worried. Stepping off the transport that had brought him here, he looked round at the many faces there, most filled with unspeakable fear. The attack on Earth had taken its toll for sure. People were still enquiring about lost family members, others were tearfully reuniting with those who had somehow managed to survive. The death toll currently stood at six billion people - probably the most horrific attack ever known to have happened. The Human race's population had been halved in a few minutes of panic and delirium.

The Federation woud need plenty of time to recover from this. There were so many events that could happen now. Either more of those ships would come, or another empire would try to take over the Federation, now that it had been shaken to its core. Samanya didn't like it one bit. The only thing that made him feel remotely secure was the fact that he had been assigned to a very powerful ''Independence'' class starship. It was ''en route'' right now, but apparently they had detoured, going into Tholian space, rumour had it. The ''Pioneer'' needed an operations officer and, according to Starfleet, he was just what they needed.

Squeezing through the crowd as best he could, Samanya found a computer terminal. Activating its interface, he stated his name and clearance code, had a retinal scan taken and his fingerprints checked. Well, at least the level of security has been increased accordingly, he thought. Removing a data chip from his backpack - which contained all of the belongings he could take - he placed it into the terminal. Browsing over its contents, he made a note of where he was meant to be and when.

Then something caught his eye. A small message, right at the bottom of the screen. Samanya had nearly missed it. It was a short message, containing the words: "Meet up with Tim Scrobbe, Sadler's Bar, third floor." Sadler's Bar he'd heard of. An increasingly more popular bar where many Starfleet officers tended to rest and relax with the locals. But Tim Scrobbe was a mystery. How would I even recognise him?

Replacing the data chip in his rucksack, Samanya found his way to the escalator. On arrival at the third floor, he asked someone for directions to the bar. After being given the "you've-never-been-here-before-have-you" look from the gentleman, it was pointed out to him, near the far end of the veranda. Thanking the man, Samanya wriggled once more through the crowd, and entered the bar. As no other seats were available, he sat at the bar, and simply waited. What else was there to do?

Fortunately, one of the bartenders had noticed him, drowning in his own solace. While drying a Pilsner glass with a teatowel, she approached Samanya, causing him to look up. Her smile told him that she was going to strike up a conversation one way or another, and she began to speak, her Irish accent attempting to cut through the high level of noise.

"So, what'll it be?" Simple start, or so it should have been. Samanya's mind went blank for a moment, then he picked the first thing he could think of. Good thing he liked it.

"Erm... a raktajino, please."

"Coming right up," she said, placing the glass she had been cleaning on the table, and replacing it with another one, which was wider and deeper than the first. Placing it into the replicator behind her, she asked the computer for a standard raktajino, and then gave it to Samanya, who accepted it gratefully.

"So what brings you here?" she enquired.

"I've been assigned to the USS _Pioneer_," replied Samanya, adjusting the volume of his voice to contend with the rest of the chatter in the bar. "They're coming to pick up several crewmembers, including me." Taking a sip of his drink, Samanya allowed himself to breathe more easily, as he had been racing from one place to another since he had stepped off his shuttle. "I've been asked to meet someone here, so I guess that's all I'm up to."

The bartender smiled, and replaced several strands of loose hair with her finger.

"The _Pioneer_, eh? You'll probably be looking for whoever attacked Earth then."

"Something like that. Did you lose anyone?"

The bartender looked saddened for a moment, before Samanya interjected. "We can talk about something else if you like."

"No, it's OK," came the reply. "I lost my younger sister, she nearly made it off the planet but the atmosphere had been ravaged more severely where she was."

"I'm so sorry," said Samanya, almost wishing he hadn't brought up this topic of conversation. He turned to scan the crowd behind him, looking for whoever it was he was supposed to be meeting. As he turned back, he heard a masculine voice beside him.

"You must be Ensign Samanya."

The younger man nearly fell off his chair in shock. The person now sitting next to him had appeared without warning. He was a much older man, in his mid-50s perhaps, with a slightly receded hairline, green eyes, and a partially misaligned nose that could have gone easily into a Cubist painting. He was in civilian clothing, meaning that someone else must have placed the request to meet this man on his data chip.

"And you must be Tim Scrobbe," said Samanya.

"Well, now we've introduced each other quite literally... let's talk." Both men laughed, causing Samanya to relax a little. Scrobbe asked the bartender for a Vulcan mocha, single sweet, a "proper drink" in comparison to raktajino. Scrobbe noticed Samanya staring intently at his crooked nose, and according to the elder man, it had been from "one of those" bar fights several years ago.

"Looking forward to your new assignment?"

"I'd be lying if I said no, but at times like these I need to focus on the work I'll have to do. Especially as I've had a straight promotion from cadet to chief operations officer. I'm surprised there's no-one else available with more experience."

"Well, according to my sources, Starfleet personnel have been spread pretty thin. They'd move more experienced people from place to place, but the president has ordered most ships to stay on active patrol in their assigned sectors."

"What did I hear about the captain of the _Pioneer_ being new?"

"Technically, he is new, but he has been elevated pretty fast. His name is Mantree, he's one of the youngest captains. Caused quite a stir, actually. His first officer is twice his age and has a bucketload more experience."

"Commander Lhaihtrha?"

"Yes, that's him. Apparently the Romulans weren't too happy. We've been allies with them for over 200 years now, and not a single Romulan has captained a Federation vessel. Must be a rather interesting life, spending so long as a commander." Scrobbe stared into his drink, mulling over a few things in his mind. His next question caught Samanya off-guard.

"You really don't remember me, do you?"

Samanya's reaction was, understandably, one of confusion. Sitting before him was a man he had never met in his life, ever, or even known before today.

"Why would I remember you?"

"It's a long story, and one I can't really get into right now, but basically, you and I have worked together."

Samanya's head was racing with so many questions he wanted to ask, but he knew he'd never get answers to many of them, if any at all. How could any of what this man was saying be true?

"When was this?"

Scrobbe ignored the question, and pulled a small container from his left trouser pocket. Inside it were small white capsules, around a hundred of them. Scrobbe placed the container on the table in front of them, and finished his drink.

"Once you board the _Pioneer_, take one of these every twelve hours - without fail. You should be fine once you've used them all. Don't show them to anyone on the _Pioneer_, or anyone else in fact. It is imperative that you don't."

Samanya thought he might be in a dream or something, as none of this was making sense.

"What are the pills for?"

Scrobbe looked directly at him as he stood up.

"They're for the pain. Excuse me."

And before Samanya could respond, Scrobbe promptly left the bar and became just another face in the crowd. Sighing, Samanya took the container, placed it into his rucksack, and wondered how much more confusing his life could become.

* * *

Ella was screaming in sheer pain as the doctors tried to inject her with a sedative. Lomax heard her shouting from the floor above, and so he rushed down to see what was happening. Entering the small room that contained only a bed and some medical equipment, Lomax found himself pushed quite hard to the side of the room, nearly colliding with another onrushing doctor.

"I can see them!" Ella was yelling, causing the doctors to think she was having another panic attack. Thinking back to his conversation, with her, Lomax became conscious of the fact he thought he knew what she was going on about. Trying to force his way through the crowd, he said, "I think I can help her! Let me try!"

The room became hushed instantaneously, even Ella stopped screaming. The doctors looked at Lomax, as if he too had gone insane.

"Just give me two minutes, that's all I ask," he said.

One by one, the doctors filed out of the room, leaving Dan alone with Ella. As the door closed, Dan pulled up the chair that had been sitting on the other side of the bed, and sat on it. Ella observed him, hoping he didn't have the sedative hidden somewhere on his person. Dan kept his voice low, confident that it would give Ella the calm she needed.

"What did you see this time?"

Ella wiped her hand down her face, removing several tears. "Do you really want to know?"

"That's why I'm here."

Another short pause. Ella seemed a little hesitant to speak; she thought that no-one would take her seriously.

"I saw… an unthinkable attack. Something I didn't expect to see. A planet was attacked."

"These creatures you told me about last time."

Ella nodded. "The same."

"Can you describe them this time? Or were they still too blurry?"

"They're unimaginable creatures. Suffice it to say, I'd prefer not to recount what I saw."

Dan stretched out his hand, and placed it reassuringly on hers. "Please do tell me. I'd like to help."

Ella shook her head. "No. It's… it's too terrifying to remember. I don't want to see that look again. I just want to be left alone."

"What do you mean? Left alone here?"

"No," said Ella. "I want the aliens to leave me alone."

Dan was starting to lose the plot. "They're nowhere near you, Ella. How could they be with you?"

Ella made eye contact with him. "They can see me. They're watching us all."

Again, more confusion. Dan was beginning to get impatient.

"How far away are they?"

"They've already entered our galaxy. They're at the far reaches, beyond Klingon space. They're heading right for us."

"So what are they doing here?"

"They're here for us."

"And what do they want with us?"

"They're going to kill us all."

Enough was enough. Dan stood up, and promptly left the room. As he walked past the still waiting group of doctors, he didn't notice his brazen colleague, standing in the shadows opposite him.


End file.
